


Hurts Like Hell

by pepperpottsgoddessofmischief



Series: The Song of Achilles Playlist [5]
Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda, The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Achilles reincarnated as Anthony, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Based on 'Hurts like Hell', Based on Turn: Washington's Spies, Everyone Is Gay, Hanging for treason, M/M, Or at least a fan video of John André's hanging, Patroclus reincarnated as Patrick, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Please be prepared for two of the main characters to die, Reincarnation, Some of history is skewed but it's fiction so who cares, Song fic, Suicide, This is not going to be an easy fic to read, Valley Forge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-14 02:32:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17499899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pepperpottsgoddessofmischief/pseuds/pepperpottsgoddessofmischief
Summary: When Patroclus and Achilles are discovered as lovers during the Revolutionary War, Patroclus does all he can to make sure his love is safe. Even if it means risking his own life to keep their secret just that.





	Hurts Like Hell

**Author's Note:**

> Giving you a fair warning now, this isn't going to be easy to read. The video that gave me the idea is linked below but obviously, the situation is changed but the theory is much the same. This is a reincarnation fic so I've changed Patroclus and Achilles names to Patrick and Anthony but they refer to each other as Patroclus and Achilles. The song has been in my playlist for ages now and I stumbled across the video while looking for information on John André. I've put a summary of the story in the endnotes is you need more information before deciding to read the story. It's not insanely detailed but I know the themes of hanging and suicide are very triggering. Please look after yourselves. 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PJMlgXsYAjw

**Valley Forge, January 1778**

 

When they found out about Achilles, they used their love against him. Patroclus wasn’t stupid, in this war he had found his way into the inner workings of the leaders, on the fringe of the aides-de-camp to George Washington himself, and they used it against him.

 

A man that both lovers recognised instantly as a reincarnate of the great Odysseus himself, even if he didn’t know if yet, had discovered the two men together. In a time where they could be tried and hung for being lovers, Patroclus agreed to do anything to keep Achilles safe. Odysseus was a loyalist. Patroclus agreed to spy for the King.

He managed to keep silent for months, passing the small bits of information he came across to the loyalists, heart pounding each time. They held his life in their hands, and they knew it, asking for more and more.

The rift between Achilles and Patroclus widened, neither wished for the British to win the war, both fiercely loyal to Washington. Patroclus could not see his love die so young. Achilles was only a lowly soldier, if tried and executed he would go first, Patroclus would have to watch, before following him to the afterlife.

He slipped up, one cold night in the middle of winter. His footprints, embedded in the fresh snow, led a curious soldier his way, could see the papers he handed to a mounted redcoat, saw the soldier nod and ride away. Patroclus saw the young American out the corner of his eye, and dropped to his knees in the snow, not moving until a small armed group came to find him.

He was seated in front of the General, eyes unable to meet his, face burning in shame.

"Why?" The General’s voice was hard and Patroclus could see clenched fists in front of his eyes. The scratch of a quill pen on paper made him glance up again, catching the eye of Hamilton at the desk. This was his trial.

"They were blackmailing me, Sir," His voice hitched and he pulled at a loose thread on his breeches, still not able to look Washington in the eye. "I did not wish to, but a life was threatened. I did what I could to save a friend." He finally looked up, catching Washington’s eye before glancing at Hamilton. For once, the man’s pen had faltered. He knew why Patroclus lived in constant fear, knew whose life had been threatened, but knew his position. The four of them had sworn a pact, neither pair would speak up if the other was caught. Better two found than all four.

For sodomy, they could have been drummed out. Wounding only their pride, but the threat of death was still there. Now, for Patroclus at least, the threat was about to be made real. 

"About what?"

Patroclus was already shaking his head before Washington had finished, "I can’t say, Sir. Even telling you would leave them still in danger."

"Then you leave me with no choice Soldier, you knew what you were doing. This has been your trial, and in the morning you will be executed for treason."

Patroclus nodded and watched the General, one man he admired and looked to as a father figure, turn away from him, "Yes Sir." 

Guards were called in to take Patroclus away and he was placed in a guarded room in the house they were currently occupying. He sunk down on the bed and let his head fall into his hands. Tears had been obscuring his vision since he had left the General’s office and now he could do nothing to stop them. All he could think of was Achilles, he would be alone in their tent, knowing something was wrong, most likely fearing the worst. The rough material of his jacket sleeve rubbed against his cheeks as he wiped away the tears.

He was disturbed from his solitude a few hours later by a soft knock at the door. Patroclus had no idea who would knock on the door, he was the prisoner now, he wasn’t deserving of the kind of respect that came from being seen presentable when someone wanted to see him. He took the brief reprieve for what it was and quickly sat up, trying in vain to rub the tear trails from his cheeks, "Come in?"

When Alexander appeared at the door the breath caught in Patroclus’ throat. Perhaps there was a moment, a thought of a last minute reprieve, but he squashed that thought almost instantly. Alexander swore he wouldn’t risk his life to save Patroclus, and he would keep it, to keep his John alive. 

"Patrick?" The door closed with a soft click and Patroclus stood, allowing himself to fall into Alexander’s arms. His body wracked with sobs but no sound escaped, he had cried everything out while he was alone, now he was lamenting the loss of his friends. "Oh, Patrick I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you tell me?"

"It would’ve put you in danger. The shame of being drummed out would have killed Anthony anyway. I’ve killed him now anyway, I know him, Alexander. He will join me in the afterlife,” He gripped the upper arm of the other man, holding him at arm's length, "Hold your John extra tight. Don’t let anything take him away. If you love him, don’t lose him," Hamilton nodded and Patroclus let his eyes run over the face of the suddenly silent man. His skin looked sallow, as pale as the snow steadily falling outside, with an almost sickly look. His bright red hair was coming loose from its expertly tied ribbon and Patroclus tucked a lock behind his ear. "You’ve been a good friend Alexander, I will miss you."

Alexander nodded and pulled Patroclus into a tight hug, "I’m sorry I couldn’t help Patrick. I wish you had told me. I could have done something, anything," He pulled back slowly and sighed. "There is one thing I can do for you." He stepped silently to the door. He spoke softly to the two men guarding the door and held out a hand to a third that Patroclus couldn’t see from where he was stood. When Achilles stepped into the softly lit room, Patroclus felt his heart soar.

He glanced back at Hamilton as he quietly closed the door, "How?"

"When I heard you were being sent for I made sure Walker and North would be your guards. They know," He tipped his head towards Achilles, who was blushing. "And will make sure you’re out of here well before dawn. Goodbye Pattrick, I’ll see you on the other side of the War."

"See you on the other side." Patroclus whispered softly and took Achilles into his arms as the door closed. The younger man was shaking and Patroclus led him gently to the bed. He slipped Achilles out of his uniform jacket and mirrored the action himself before laying together on the bed.

He held his lover in his arms, whispering words of comfort and sweet nothings into his unruly black curls. Neither of them slept. The night seemed to get colder and darker, but minutes felt like seconds and, when Walker opened the door before dawn, Achilles clung to Patroclus’ shirt like a lifeline.

"I can’t lose you. Not again. Not now." His voice was soft, devoid of emotion but the front of Patroclus’ shirt began to dampen with his tears.

"You will see me again, my love," He sat up slowly and pulled Achilles into his lap. "You are half my soul, after all. We shall not be separated long." He pressed a soft but passionate kiss to Achilles’ lips and then stood with him, pushing him towards Walker and out the open door.

North peaked around the door frame as Achilles walked away and saw Patroclus sink onto the bed. He shook his head slowly and glanced at Walker, reaching for his loves hand over the gap of the doorway. They didn’t need to say anything, they knew how he was feeling.

————————————————————————————————————————————— 

Achilles didn’t know what to do with himself, it was the middle of winter, it was too early to train and there was little work to do when the weather was so cold. Walker had led him as far as the door for the house and he had wandered back through the dark and the deeper snow to their tent, but he didn’t stop there. He rambled further through the snow, making his way to the outskirts of the camp, falling gently against a tree on the edge of the woods. The strong old oak that he been used for too many treason executions was silhouetted by the slowly rising sun, but he couldn’t take his eyes off it. The image of Patroclus hanging there was seared onto his brain long before men started making their way over to join him. 

The message had been passed quickly around the camp as soon as men started stirring. Patrick Edwards was an upstanding officer, the idea of him being tried for treason seemed absurd, but as soon as the young soldier that had spotted him passing information to the British woke and confirmed the news, men couldn’t keep away from the hanging tree. 

John spotted Achilles slumped against the tree and slipped down beside him in the snow, "You shouldn't be here Anthony. You don’t need to see this."

"Could you stay away," Achilles spat out, not once looking at John. "If your Alexander was here?"

John sighed, admitting defeat and pulled Achilles to his feet, "No. I couldn’t. He’s coming now. Do you want to stay here?"

Achilles shook his head hard and stepped to the front of the crowd. The men lingering around parted like the Red Sea, some shocked at the dead look in his eyes and some knowing looks following him to stand at the front as the cart's wheels could be heard against the frozen ground. John stood behind him, protecting him from the jeers coming from the group behind them at Patroclus. 

John placed a hand gently on his shoulder and Achilles voice was soft as he spoke, "I need him to see I was here. I need him to know I was here to say goodbye."

Their eyes locked as the cart pulled to a stop and Patroclus stood on steady feet. His uniform was immaculate and hair carefully brushed back. The white blindfold wrapped around his head was moving gently in the breeze as he stepped forward, accepting the rope hanging in front of him. The rope was rough around his neck as it was tightened and Patroclus locked eyes with his love. 

Achilles stood, as stoic as ever, only the tears forming in his eyes giving away his pain. ‘I love you’ he mouthed softly and lifted his hand to his heart. Patroclus mirrored the action, something they did to hold their words close as one or the other died. He allowed the blindfold to slip over his eyes, the last image he saw was Achilles' stricken face. 

He felt the cart move out from under his feet, and his world was no more.

Achilles managed to hold back the most of the inhuman wail rising in his throat, keeping up appearances only for a second before his knees buckled beneath him. John stopped him from hitting the floor, arms looped under his armpits to keep his body supported.

"Come on Anthony," John murmured softly and pushed out of the slowly dispersing crowd. "You don’t need to see anymore."

"He’s really gone," Achilles’ voice was hollow, not giving away the burning pain in his heart. He had fought and killed hundreds of men every other time Patroclus had been taken from him too early. This time he felt too weak to raise his head, wished for it all to be a dream. "Bring him back, John."

His soft begging made John’s heartbreak but he couldn’t answer him, he couldn’t bring his best friend back to life and he knew he couldn’t save the other. All he could do was make sure Achilles was comfortable for however long he had left in the War, "I can’t, Anthony. I’m sorry. I truly am."

He lifted Achilles carefully into his cot, pulling the blanket around his still frame, "Alexander will check on you later." He pressed a gentle kiss to his temple but received no responding blush as he usually did. John shook his head sadly but Achilles didn’t move as he left. He didn’t feel like he had any energy left in his body. Even breathing felt like a chore, every nerve was on fire. Time passed without him recognising it but he still didn’t move, not even when his body ached with hunger. 

Alexander came and sat beside his cot as the light dimmed for the second time outside, pen working as furiously as ever over the paper, even as he worked on his travel desk, hunched over as the light disappeared to see the dark letters on paper. He placed both warm stew and water next to Achilles but neither were touched. Alexander laid his pen down when the light became too dark and ran his hand gently through Achilles dark curls, drawing a soft, pained whimper from the younger man's throat. 

"I know," He took a candle from inside his uniform jacket and stepped outside, reappearing a few seconds later with a lick of flame on the end of a taper. He set the candle in the holder on his writing desk and helped Achilles sit up. He placed the quill pen in one hand and paper in the other. He picked a cloth wrapped object up off the cot that Achilles hadn’t noticed and placed it next to him. "If this is what you need to do Anthony, write it down first. I won’t let you be forgotten and I won’t let him be remembered for the wrong reasons.” Alexander turned to leave but was stopped by Achilles reaching for his hand. He squeezed it and nodded before letting his own drop. Alexander nodded in response and slipped out of the tent, heading to find his own love, unwilling to waste a minute they had left. 

Achilles wrote three letters that night. 

One to John, explaining his choices. 

One to Alexander, thanking him for allowing him to choose as he wished. 

One to the future that none of them would see, to explain his lover's motives, and the shame they all knew every day. One day he knew the world would change, had already changed so much since the first life they were together, and he knew it would be for the better. The wrapped parcel was a pistol, loaded and ready for use. He thanked Alexander for that as well, knew his hands weren’t steady enough to load. 

The men huddled around the campfire heard the shot. They didn’t need to check who they had lost. Alexander was called for, as Anthony’s closest friend they all knew he’d want to bury him. Patrick hadn’t been offered a formal burial due to his conviction, but John had marked down where in the woods he had been left and led Alexander there. The two were buried together and Walker, a man apparently of many hidden talents, worked carefully on a grave marker. By the time they marched out of the camp in June 1778 their grave was marked, and their souls free to move to the next life. 

 

> _‘Here lies Patrick,_

> _Unwilling spy to protect his love._

> _And_

> _Here lies Anthony,_

> _Unwilling to live a second without Patrick._

> _Death does not discriminate.’_

**Author's Note:**

> The basic summary is Patroclus and Achilles have been discovered as being lovers in a time where this is not accepted. To stop them both being dismissed from the army or possibly killed Patroclus agrees to spy for the British. He is caught one night and, because it's treason, he's sentenced to death by hanging. There's a cute short bit during the night before his hanging where Alexander brings Achilles to say goodbye to him and then he is hung the next morning. Achilles is understandably upset, and Alexander offers him the option of suicide, which he takes. Nothing is too detailed, the hanging is described as "He felt the cart move out from under his feet, and his world was no more." and Achilles suicide as the men being able to hear the gunshot from outside the tent.
> 
> On another note, I may have started writing a part two where they all meet again in the modern age but I haven't finished it yet. A few weeks maybe.


End file.
